


If Ignorance Was Bliss

by BMRH



Series: The Private Stories of John Watson [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday, Depressed John, Drabble, Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, Friendship, Gen, Memories, POV First Person, POV John Watson, Philosophy, Post Mary, Season/Series 04, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 16:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13299129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BMRH/pseuds/BMRH
Summary: "How can anyone ever say that they are happy when they have all those things left in their minds? At least I'm honest. I can never be happy." A short drabble about John Watson and his inner demons from his private notes. The fifth part of my "The Private Stories of John Watson" series.





	If Ignorance Was Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this very short drabble in two days, almost exactly a year ago. Even though it is really short, writing within two days was by miles a new record! This is a short season four drabble about John and the struggle he is having with himself, written as of he was writing private notes. I remember that I actually cried when writing this because I had before this, but also after, written so many fics from John's POV and gotten into his mind so many times that I felt so much with him, and still do, even though it doesn't justify what he did, neither against Mary or Sherlock. As written in the summary, this is the fifth part of my John Watson series, a bit different in style from the other ones but still something that I hope can satisfy you. I have earlier posted this drabble on fanfiction.net. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

_**My name is John Watson and this is the story about my life as part of the life of Sherlock Holmes** _

* * *

> **MY PRIVATE NOTES**
> 
> **January 6, 2017**
> 
> **London,** **9:15 PM**

Sometimes I hear people say that they are _happy_.

I say nothing, but like with everything else, they all lie. People go through things in life, some more than others, and whatever they might say we never forget the pain we have felt. We _never_ do. Deep down, it will always be there. Every heartbreak, from the first time you got dumped by your middle school sweetheart to the moment you throw a flower onto the coffin that belongs to your mother.

It doesn't end there. There are also the things _you_ have done, the guilt and pain over the people you have hurt and betrayed during your lifetime. It _never_ goes away. Trust me, it never does and it keeps tearing you apart. How can anyone ever say that they are _happy_ when they have all those things left in their minds? At least I'm being honest. I can _never_ be _happy_.

I have thought many times about how great it would feel to just forget. To forget _everything_. I would quite gladly have had a needle put into my arm with some of that TD 12. " _Bliss_ " he called it, Smith. _Bliss_. _Bliss_ of being able to forget the pain of what the people I love and have loved have done to me and what I have done to them in return. So much pain. And anger. And loss. And remorse. And _grief_. Yes, what if we could just make it all go away? Erase _everything_. No memories. Nothing. _Bliss_ is ignorance and ignorance is _bliss_.

_Ignorance. Nothing. No memories._

But is it really _bliss_ to be able to forget? If ignorance is _bliss_ , ignorance always comes with a price. And the more I think about it, _bliss_ isn't ignorance, to have no memories at all. No, whatever I might say, even how painful my life has been, I know that I do know what _bliss_ really is. _Bliss_ was the feeling of excitement when my new flat mate asked if I wanted to "see some more" and I ran after him over the rooftops of London, the adrenaline pumping furiously in my veins. _Bliss_ was the absurdity of sitting with him on a couch, as he was dressed only in his bed sheet at Buckingham Palace, while we laughed at his brother. _Bliss_ was the first time I kissed the woman who became my wife. _Bliss_ was when my best man played our wedding waltz on his violin as we danced to it. _Bliss_ was when I held my daughter for the first time.

And I think it is some kind of _bliss_ that I feel when we eat birthday cake at a bakery in central London this afternoon. When I watch my old landlady, who has become something of a mother to us all, laughing and turning to the pathologist at St Bart’s, who became my friend and a family member and has always helped us, as she handles my baby daughter to the maniac who is my former flatmate, my _very_ best friend, the best man I will ever know, who never hesitated to go through his own personal hell to save me from my own, and he smiles and gently places her in his lap, genuinely trying his very best to be what no one ever thought he could be:

Human.

Maybe it isn't _bliss?_ Should I really be able to feel _bliss?_ Whatever it is, at least it is not _grief._ And that is just as good to me.

**Author's Note:**

> "The Lying Detective" was quite amazing, wasn't it? Within the first week after its release I watched it four times and last night I watched it again together with a friend that I have "sherlocked" during the past couple of months. Even though extremely sad and dark, I loved its style and the sadism of it, but then I am a fan especially of the episodes written solely by Moffat. I can't believe it has been one year since the last season and we know nothing about what is going to happen now. I want to continue to be hopeful since this show is one of the greatest loves of my life and I will never give up on it. Whatever happens... #thegameisneverover


End file.
